The Slant
by Tea Leaf
Summary: Social strictures and convention bind who they can be in daylight. But freedom reigns in the cover of night, where all secrets are safe and the only person who matters in the one haunting your dreams. Het, alternative pairing, heed the rating.


Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies, I don't own Naruto.

Author's Notes: This is an alternative hetero pairing, a crack pairing if you will. Nevertheless, the story remains a serious one. I also feel the need to include a lime warning. I recommend only reading if you are mature and open minded.

**The Slant**

By: Tea Leaf/Banana Soap

Chapter 1

(…)

1If asked, she never would be able to answer. What had compelled her? How had it started? Why did it continue?

The questions, common to her brain, cycloned through her mind as she bit down on her already full and swollen lower lip.

In the cold light of day, her rational mind listed off reason after reason. It had been listing the same reasons and more for the past three years. It would have been listing them for the full six of their acquaintance had she realized his intentions sooner. In the clinical world, scrutinized by unforgiving daylight, she knew better.

But as the light faded, as her obligations slipped away, as she was swallowed up in the warm shadows of the night, her objective mind held no power.

After the sun set and the moon rose to watch guard for them, all which held weight was the pounding of her heart. The heavy, throbbing organ, pounding so hard inside her chest that the sound was deafening and the powerful pulse buckled her knees.

He heard it, and he followed it, and he caught her as she fell.

And once their bodies made contact, the heat consumed them. And her brain was incinerated.

Sweaty palms roamed heavily, steadily over her body. His own heart beating as hard and heavy as hers, so much so that his pulse hummed through the veins of his hands. The beat was complimentary, ever increasing in its speed and urgency, each egging on the other.

Her hands slid through his long, soft hair, pulling his lips up to hers again as her bare skin purred against his. The heat was suffocating, his weight was oppressive. And still she couldn't get enough. Her smooth leg slid up his hip, her muscled thigh rippling in response to the roll of his hip. His tongue plunged into her mouth as her gasps escaped through open lips. Her hands slid down his back as his anchored her hips, pulling her closer still, pushing as deep as he could.

Her fingers slipped in the sweat rolling down the curve of his spine, making her aware of the droplets rolling down the back of her neck and between her breasts, heightening her awareness of her body, her awareness of his.

His tongue followed the trail, laving her skin, cooling it and heating it at the same time. Her fingers clenched, her nails digging into his heavily muscled flesh.

Subconsciously, she answered her questions, answered the questions that would be asked her if they were ever found out. She was alive, more alive than she'd ever felt, more aware of it. And she was addicted.

(…)

The cold water pounded on her skin, freezing it and freezing her into wakefulness. Dark eyes wide, she scrubbed him off of her. Like she did every morning.

The smell of bland soap followed her as she stepped out of the shower stall. She quickly grabbed the rough towel from its rack on the wall and scrubbed the rivulets of water from her skin. She bent at the waist, flipping her chin length black hair over her head and squeezing out the water before wrapping the towel around it as a turban. Straightening, she moved to the mirror and stared critically at herself as she reached for her toothbrush and toothpaste.

She hesitated for a second before setting about scrubbing the taste of him from her mouth.

She stared at the mirror as she scrubbed. She still looked young, despite being thirty-four. One of the perks of being a medicnin, some would say. She found it misleading. A person's face was supposed to be a road map of their life. It gave others warning of where you had been, it held the promise of where you would go. Her face had stunted growth. Maybe that was why…

Setting her jaw, Shizune cut off that thought before it finished. Now was not the time for such speculation. The sun was rising, the day was growing and she had responsibilities to attend to.

(…)

Shizune pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain effort to dispel the already growing head-ache. It was only mid-morning and already the paperwork was starting to get to her. She didn't know why, but for some reason, sorting and filing the jounin mission reports always weighed heavily on her mind.

Giving herself permission for momentary respite, Shizune stretched out her senses, checking on her fellow staff. Tsunade was in her office, slacking off certainly, but at least she wasn't asleep. Kotetsu and Izumo were being surprisingly productive, working their way through the categorization of mission commissions Konoha had received recently. She smiled slightly; they'd proven to be good and loyal help to the Godaime administration over the years. She was very grateful to them.

It was then that a foreign presence impinged on her mental space. She sat up quickly, snapping herself back into reality and ducking her head back into her paperwork. Forcing her brain to abandon any hope of following the train of thought he'd slowly carved in her memory over the years. She sternly shut down the back of her mind's effort to strain her ears in the direction of Tsunade-sama's office as she heard the click of the Hokage's door.

Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour and still she was staring at the same report. It was a very rare thing, to be able to rob Shizune of her ability to work. She hoped he was unaware of his talent, but she knew better than to believe that he was. He was a genius after all, not just because of raw talent, but because he had the mind required to master that talent. She admired him for it.

And there he was again, stealing her thoughts. She momentarily considered giving up and giving into them, but her will quickly reasserted itself and pushed him from the forefront of her mind. But his shadow lingered in the corners.

Much like he himself lingered on the other side of her door. She ignored him.

The latch clicked and the wood swung inwards and he stood, filling the space impressively.

She barely looked up long enough to acknowledge him before lowering her eyes to her work once more.

"Tsunade-sama requested that I leave you the report from the Kurosaki mission."

His voice rolled down her spine like melted chocolate. Warm, dark, sensual, and in a tone that always made her jealous when she heard him use it with anyone else.

"Yes, thank you. That pile is fine." She answered, blandly and briskly as she motioned vaguely to one of the stacks of paper lording over her desk.

He nodded to her, maybe it was even a mocking bow, before moving into the room. She heard the latch click behind him, but the lock never followed. His steps were silent through the room as he moved towards her. She looked up slightly, eyes hidden by her eyelashes, and simply appreciated his grace. His walk was a rolling prowl and his presence filled the room. She knew he was doing it on purpose. There were few people he walked for like that, and she knew instinctively that the only time he ever meant it was with her.

"How was the mission?" she asked, finally sitting up and leaning back in her chair. The question was purely for show, she already knew how the mission had gone, he'd told her last night when he'd gotten home from it. Told her brokenly between kisses and pledges, but still told.

"It went well. Faster than anticipated, it's all explained in the report." His words were cold, efficient as he set the report where she'd asked, the same words and speech pattern he used with everyone. But not everyone could see the heat in his eyes when he looked at her. That heat, no, the knowledge that everyone else was met with ice, forced her to repress a shiver in her spine. The creak of the leather chair would have been unusual; anyone listening could have been alarmed.

He smirked. He knew. He knew she knew he knew. And he relished the moment.

"So I see. Thank you for the swift report." She responded, equally formulaic in her words. She did not let him see the knowledge in her eyes. She was facing the door. If anyone were to come in, they would see. And they must never see.

He nodded again, holding her eyes, melting her barrier. Her will set in and reinforced it. She could almost feel the temperature change as his froze over in response.

He turned and left her office without another word, the click of the door latch echoing in the room.

Shizune cautiously let out a deep breath. But the tension stayed with her and would stay with her until she saw him again. And then it would grow, and grow, and grow until she snapped from the pressure.

An almost trembling hand reached out and picked up the report he had held seconds ago, and brought it before her. Her eyes swept through it swiftly, following the slim, perfect print, smiling slightly to herself at what he had written down, even more so at what he hadn't. He wrote that they discovered an unexpected advantage and had pressed. He didn't write that he had sought out the advantage because he had snapped first.

He'd told her though. Regaled her with the details of every excruciating moment he'd spent away from her. Her ego had swelled considerably. There was something just so delicious about having someone like Hyuuga Neji so utterly devoted to you.

(…)

The further he walked away from the Hokage tower, the heavier and more reluctant his steps became. It was impossible to tell if one was only observing, but he could feel the steadily increasing strain of his muscles.

He kept moving though; Hyuuga Neji was not a man to linger unnecessarily. His business with the Godaime had been completed and to waste time in the presence of her assistant would certainly raise questions. Questions his uncle would not hesitate to ask and that he would not be able to avoid answering.

In fact, it was toward his uncle's interrogation that he moved. He'd been gone for three weeks; he'd been supposed to be gone for four. His uncle would expect his prompt return and explanation.

Neji had no real desire for a second debriefing, nor was he looking forward to lying to Hiyashi about his priorities and time of return to the village. If his uncle were to discover that he had returned late the previous evening and not early this morning, there would be more questions. And his answers would hold consequences.

He supposed that his family was the main reason he agreed to Shizune's request to keep their relationship a secret. He understood that she wasn't mentally comfortable with it and he respected that. But over time, he would have put far more effort into convincing her that they were ok if he didn't have his own repercussions to worry about.

If nothing else, his family would never accept it, he would be exiled and Hiyashi would use all of his influence to bring about her downfall in the eyes of the village. If that were to happen, all the hard work he had done in effort to reconcile the main and branch houses with the aid of his cousin Hinata, would be wasted. The branch children he had managed to protect so far from the curse seal would be subjected to its humiliation and horror. The fragile truce of the clan would crumble and things would become even worse than before.

There were moments when he couldn't help but rage at the injustice of it. It was unfair that he curb his life to suit family politics that shouldn't even exist in the first place. But then he remembered her calming hands that healed the blinding and volatile emotions within him and reminded him that at least he could fix it. His sacrifices would make sure that the next generation would be free of servitude. And the generation after that would be free altogether. And the generation after that would be able to take that freedom for granted, just like everyone else.

It was her confidence in him that helped him really believe that he was doing the right thing. Maybe that's why it hurt even more to not be able to share it with anyone but her.

Closing his pale eyes briefly, he gently pushed the thoughts of her to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to lose himself to her, but he wanted her close by so that he could once he was finished with his uncle.

The gates of the Hyuuga compound loomed ominously ahead, their black wood testament to status, privilege and power.

He did not enter through them.

Moving down a well beaten path, Neji walked the length of the walls until he reached the small, worn out entrance used exclusively by the branch family.

(…)

As the day faded into night, in the same manner that it always had, he excused himself from the dinner his uncle had thrown to celebrate his safe return. Ignoring Hinata's curious look, he reminded his uncle of his rigorous training schedule that he had avoided all day.

He had long ago taken up the habit of training his byukagan under cover of darkness, the goal being to enhance its perceptive abilities.

He'd been training like this for years. Hiyashi had approved greatly of the theory, even encouraging Hinata and Hanabi to adopt the same practice so long as they remained within the delimitations of the compound.

As Neji was of the branch clan, he had no training space in the compound as the main family did and so had no choice but to go elsewhere. That was one of the perks of being of the minor family. The freedom to leave the compound was one of the few they were allotted that the main family was often denied.

He slipped out of the compound, moving gracefully through the growing shadows of the streets and moving towards the public training grounds. He'd left with the intention of actually training; he normally did. But once he was finally beyond the prying eyes of the village citizens, he couldn't center his focus on his training. With a slightly self-deprecatory half smile, he succumbed to his greater desire and disappeared from the clearing in a whisper of smoke.

(…)

Hours later, he woke to the sound of keys jingling in the lock of the front door. His eyes slowly opened and blinked away the residue of sleep as he shifted, snuggling his head deeper into the scent her hair had left on the thick pillows.

He waited patiently as she locked the door behind her and slipped off her shoes. He listened as she moved into her kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Her light steps then moved towards him and he drank in the sight of her. Her body was silhouetted in the slanted doorway. His eyes traced the supple outline of her figure, all soft feminine curves.

She shifted, leaning against the side of the doorframe, holding her glass of water with both hands in front of her chest.

"You're here early." She said, her voice soft and warm, he could hear her smile in it. She was pleasantly surprised.

He felt his lips pull in response, looking up at her from the pillows of her bed. For half a moment, he felt almost like a child, hiding in his mother's bed.

Her smile grew and she moved into the room, the door scraping the floorboards as she closed it behind her. She set her water on the bedside table and settled her knee on the bed. Her newly freed hand slid softly along the side of his face, her fingers returning to their favorite home as they buried themselves into his thick brown hair. He shifted, rolling more onto his side rather than his stomach and reminded himself that he no longer was a child and that this woman most certainly was not his mother.

She leaned down, pressing her lips to his for a moment before sliding onto the mattress beside him.

"That mission really drained you, didn't it?" she asked knowingly as she snuggled up to his skin.

He didn't answer, only looked at her enigmatically as he draped his arm heavily over her thin waist.

"Are you ok?" Her voice was frail, her concern clear. He wasn't sure what she meant. She'd healed his injuries the night before, maybe she was worried she'd not healed them completely. Maybe she was worried because he hadn't spoken to her yet.

He'd spend the day talking, his voice was tired. He was tired. But she made him feel less so.

He pulled her close, tucking her head into his shoulder as he buried his nose in the scent of her hair and lost himself in her presence.

"I'm fine."


End file.
